Weekend at the Watson's
by TeeAndra
Summary: After losing both his wife and child, John's parents insist that they come visit them to 'cheer you up', John of course insists that Sherlock comes with. Sherlock learns about John's childhood and they finally discuss the elephant in the room.
1. Friday

**Authors Note:**

 **[] = mind palace**

 **= text**

 **I don't own BBC's Sherlock just borrowing some of the characters for a bit. Any mistakes are my own and I would appreciate if I was told about them so I can edit the story for perfection. I am British so hopefully there are no mistakes in that part.**

 **Anyway, enjoy.**

 **Tee.**

 **Chapter 1:**

 _'Please do not leave your luggage unattended.'_

"Ugh..." I groaned, slouching further into my seat. The rain was pouring dullfully against the train window which showed the typical grey sky of early morning London. John sniffed as he slipped into the seat opposite me, holding two much appreciated steaming cups of hot tea. He smiled briefly as he handed me my tea and I grunted in a reply. People were still boarding the train, dripping wet and I took brief pleasure in deducing the idiots as they sat - a teacher who's cheating on her husband with a student, a man in a suit who was still living with his parents and a father with his daughter **[no, younger sister]** who has a cold and is thankfully sitting the other side of the carriage. Dull. I sipped my tea, returning to my blogger who was currently staring out the window, looking concerned. His eyes flicked to mine.

 _'The train will be leaving the platform shortly.'_

"Great." He mumbled, stirring his tea slowly before taking a sip, flinching as I had done. He smiled at me and I returned the smile. **[He's smiling more now]** , I noted, it had been a difficult couple of months to say the least with every word being carefully chosen so not to upset John further. Only recently had John started to be more... John. Talking more, eating more, even coming on the odd case with me despite not being as sharp or involved as he had been before, his presence had been enough to allow me to work. The smiling more though, that was a new development and good timing, his parent will be expecting the usual cheerful John. Not the grieving John that is slowly starting to show.

 _'Doors closing.'_

"What?" He asked, face towards me. I cocked my head to the side in reply as the train finally started its depart from the station. I could almost feel the separation from all the murderers and drug dealers and puzzles as I looked out the window.

"You were staring at me." John said still facing me, alert despite the early morning, maybe the nap in the taxi had helped him. A couple behind us was currently discussing hotel arrangements and other domestically unoriginal conversations, what shall we have for dinner, babe, god... I returned to John who was staring at his tea **[deciding whether it's cooled down or not, it hasn't]** he flinched again before returning his gaze to me.

"How long will it take to get to your parents house?" The couple had started to argue, the man was blaming the woman for not packing a lunch for them, both using colourful language in hushed tones.

"It'll take us about two hours or so to get there, bored?" He smiled at me, shaking his head fondly as the train stopped at a station. I nodded, closing my eyes and sighing, contempt to listen to the story being read to the child across the carriage. The rain was pouring heavily outside the train and there was a horrible bite to the air that was borderline unpleasant making the warm leg pressed against my own more noticeable. I heard John sip his tea, which would now be drinkable if I could be bothered to drink it, I was currently using it to warm my hands and I had time before it became cold. Someone coughed as the train left another station. The rain was now too loud, the story too predictable and those idiots behind me had decided they were going to snog. I opened my eyes, scowling at no one in particular as I grumpily sipped my tea deciding to scowl at the window for being dull. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket, it had vibrated at some point during the journey, I silently hoped Lestrade had messaged me a case that I could solve via text - nope, phone service with its stupid deals, bugger. I sighed, shoving the phone in my pocket more forcefully than needed whilst finishing off my tea.

"Only two more stops." He said softly, continuing to stare out the window. I wasn't entirely sure whether he was telling me or himself but I nodded curtly, noting the scowl on John's face. His mother was collecting us from the station at Chelmsford, more likely that he was worried about seeing her after so long. Apart from the two years of me being 'gone', I'm certain that John visited his mother twice in the amount of time I've known him and phoned her on special occasions. Perhaps he phoned her when I jumped or when he met Mary because the woman had demanded that John visit her to 'cheer him up a bit'. So John demanded that I come as well to give him a reason to leave, the fact that his mother knows what I am like is both useful and a tad unsettling because it means John has talked about me to his mother and I don't know what he could have said. At least I don't need to pretend or be polite around her.

Finally, we approached Ipswich Rail Station. John sighed before he stood up, his legs cracking as he did so, I grabbed my small suitcase and followed John towards the door as the train came to a halt. We stepped out the carriage as well as the annoying couple who were discussing a romantic weekend together, she was expecting dinner and romance, he was clearly only interested in sexual intercourse. I caught John's eye and he rolled them humorously, obviously as fed up as I was at the couple. Much to our appreciation, the couple went in the opposite direction from us as we headed towards the exit of the station where Mrs Watson was waiting for us.

"It'll take us a good hour an' half before we finally get to the house so I'm gonna grab a sandwich or something from the shop. Want anything?" John explained after we left the platform. He handed me his suitcase and turned towards a small shop before I could answer though I knew even if I denied John would get me to eat something -stubborn doctor that he is. The station was busy and people were rushing around the station towards the platforms or the exits so the queue in the shop was long and John was at the back of it. I groaned, reaching in my pocket for my phone.

Any cases? SH

I sent the text, briefly looking up to see where John was in the queue. [Two people in front of him, only with a couple of products, should be 2-3 minutes] The phone vibrated.

Nope, enjoy your weekend away.

Lestrade replied and I groaned once again, leaning against a pillar whilst watching John talk with the cashier. They were blushing but John seemed oblivious [not ready to move on yet then] The phone vibrated again and I unlocked it quickly, hoping that Lestrade had found me a case.

Nope, Mycroft. Mrs Watson is waiting for you in the East Car Park.

Shove your umbrella up your fat -

"You okay?" John had returned with a plastic bag full of sandwiches it seemed, looking concerned but slightly amused. He pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to me before grabbing the handle of his suitcase as he took a drink of his own water.

"Fine, Mycroft is being, well, himself. Apparently your mother is waiting for us in the East Car Park, shall we go?" John froze for a moment before swallowing and placing the cap back on the bottle then he swallowed again whilst his knuckles tightened around his suitcase handle. 'Comfort him!' I thought, as I tentatively place my hand on his arm in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture.

"John?" I questioned softly. The doctor snapped out of his moment and stared me straight in the eye then glanced at my hand on his arm. Before I could remove it, John placed his own hand on top of mine and squeezed, soothing my brief panic.

"Let's go, Sherlock." He smiled and started walking away, my hand falling from his arm as he did. I followed him casually towards the car park, my hand tingling.

* * *

"Johnny!" Mrs Watson was a loud woman to say the least, her hair was brown **[dyed]** and she shared John's nose and slightly tanned skin. She was currently hugging John whilst he wrapped an arm loosely around her in return, he pulled away quickly and took a step back so he was now standing next to me. He coughed,

"Er, mum, this is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes." John introduced. His mother smiled brightly at me and then suddenly I was engulfed in a mother's crushing hug, I hesitatingly placed my hand on the woman's back then coughed awkwardly. She thankfully released me and John flashed me a concerned look.

"Mrs Watson." I politely addressed his mother, wishing to cause as little commotion as possible so that we could depart. The rain had thankfully cleared but there was still a dampness about the air which was uncomfortable and cold. Mrs Watson chuckled and looked at John fondly before speaking,

"Goodness Sherlock, you're exactly as my Johnny described you." She looked at me, amused. Oh no, was I meant to be polite ALL weekend? Dull. Mrs Watson turned around and began walking away, rambling about how Mr Watson wouldn't be joining us and how John was looking thinner. We approached a small family looking car and John instantly grabbed my suitcase, placing it in the boot of the car then sitting next to his mother at the front of the car - leaving me at the back of the car. The radio was playing some repetitive songs and Mrs Watson continued the ramble aimlessly, it was obvious to me and probably John that she was trying to cover up the awkwardness of the situation with her loud voice and music. The sun was attempting to come out but the clouds were too thick from the rain to let it through, giving a suffocating feel to the atmosphere. An hour and a half. Mrs Watson cannot ramble on for an hour and a half even barely half an hour later she's resorted to talking about the weather, there will be silence soon. I'm so bored. John's not even replying or questioning his mother, just staring at the window, I hope this trip was a good idea because he's starting to look as lost as he did at the beginning of his grieving.

"Sherlock, dear, how are the cases? Will you be solving any murders here or are you two actually here to visit family?" I noted a bitter edge to her tone, most likely due to the fact that John hardly visits, she was clearly surprised at not only John visiting but him bringing me as well; hence why she was expecting there to be a catch or a case.

"No Mrs Watson, we won't be working on a case. I've only recently solved one involving a double suicide that turned out to be murder and then forced to commit suicide." She glanced up at me from the windscreen mirror, smiling fondly at me, then focusing on the road. John gave no comment. I honestly wasn't expecting him to, just hoped he would smile or acknowledge my response in some way yet he continued to stare at the window blankly. **[Note: pay attention to him when at the house]**

"John, can I have my sandwich please?" That distracted him. The doctor and flatmate in him was clearly happy at the idea of me eating, so he reached into the bag at his feet,

"Prawn mayo or cheese and bransted?" He asked, lifting both sandwiches out and turning to me. He didn't look sad or lost anymore, actually he looked like John - concerned and caring. It was a refreshing.

"Prawn mayo." I replied and smiled before I could stop myself. John smiled back softly before looking sad again and returning to his seat whilst he ate his sandwich, looking out the window again. Damn, did I do that wrong? He seemed fine for a second. Mrs Watson was looking at me, winked quickly with a smirk, then acted like it never happened whilst I sat there questioningly. Snapping out of it, I took a bite out of my sandwich.

Overall, the drive to John's childhood home was as silent and awkward as I suspected. Mrs Watson ran out of conversation points shortly after I had finished my sandwich, so the rest of the hour or so journey was spent in silence with the few comments on the odd building or two from Mrs Watson which was replied to with a grunt from John and a 'oh' or 'right' from me. Finally, I noticed John was beginning to recognise places even going as far as to point a park out to me where he spent the majority of his childhood apparently. Then when turned into a side street and pulled up at a homely looking house.

The Watson House had a brick front with a garage and white windows. Not the largest house; not the smallest house, the Watson's clearly had a fortunate start if this was where John had grown up. Mrs Watson opened the front door and I noted the welcome mat reading 'Home Sweet Home', perhaps John had a different opinion as he looked as nervous as me.

"I'll just park the car in the garage, John, why don't you show Sherlock to your room so you can get rid of your bags. You remember where it was don't you dear?" She asked waiting until John nodded and made his way up the stair before turning and walking out the front door. I took a deep breath and followed John up the stairs towards his bedroom. **[Nervous Sherlock?]** Mycroft's mocking voice filled my head as I ascended the stairs **[Shut up Mycroft!]** I replied to him internally. John's bedroom door had clearly had a sign attached to it as the glue from it were still on the door which was slightly open. I could see blue and what I believed was a desk through the gap, the shadow of John could also be seen on the wall, he was facing away from the door. With one more deep breath I opened the door completely.

John. John. John. From the football posters to the certificates hanging on the wall this room screamed John. There were numerous boxes filled with what appeared to be John's stuff but other than that the room seemed to appear as if John had only just left for the army. The bed sheets were childish and had what appeared to be some kind of superhero on them, when he realised I was looking at the John chuckled.

"I can't believe they used my old Superman sheets. They haven't even got rid of the posters yet, I had them in my teens, for god sake." He smiled at the sheets even so before turning to me and noticing that I was still holding my bags.

"Oh, er, place them wherever. One of us with probably be sleeping in Harry's old room and one sleeping in here. If that fails there's always the ol'reliable sofa." I placed my bag next to his, spotting a box through the cupboard door next to them.

"Are you a football fan then?" Obvious Sherlock if he has posters of course he's a football fan idiot! John on the other hand didn't seemed surprised by this question and shrugged nonchalantly.

"I enjoy a good match to watch but not play, I was always more of a rugby fan. I was always the smallest one playing which helped me move around players plus I hit hard and it was always nice to see the look of surprise on their face when the small guy hurts them." He picked up a picture from the box and showed it to me, it was of young student rugby players in two lines and after briefly searching I saw who John was - the smallest one there. He had lighter hair and was thinner but his face was identical, his smile even more recognisable. By now the sky was starting to turn dark, the streetlights outside beginning to turn on, giving the room a slight glow. I handed the photo back to him and he placed it back in the box which clearly contained more photos, I'll have to ask John if we can look at them some time during the weekend.

"Come on let's check with mum to see what we're doing for dinner and sleeping." He slapped my arm as he left the room and I watched him leave, listening as he trudged down the stairs. I walked up the window looking at the garden that John probably played in as a child before sitting down on the bed, signing deeply placing my head briefly in my hands as I listened to the murmurs from downstairs. I looked up and something in the box glistened. Considering the possibility that I may be discovered, I walked towards the cupboard and opened the doors wider. Inside was a cardboard box with pink blankets, a teddy bear and a deflated congratulation balloon - oh. Oh no. John can definitely not find this, what was his parents thinking? He isn't ready for this, he has only recently started to improve; to feel better, this could set us back to stage 1 and I, he can't go back to that.

"Sherlock?" I shut the cupboard quickly and then walked out to the hallway, looking down at John who was beginning to ascend the stair.

"John?" I walked round the banister to the top of the stairs in hope of stopping him from entering the room before I could hide the box, John smiled when he spotted me.

"Fancy Chinese?" He asked. **[Two meals in one day, John this better make you smile]** I nodded and followed him into the kitchen.

* * *

Eating with the Watson's was actually easier than I thought it would be. John's father had arrived before the food was ordered and he made John seem more comfortable so he talked more, which let me be silent without it being awkward. Mr Watson was a family man, complete with a slight gut and thin line of hair on his head however he seemed to get on with John. There were no jokes and no stories but there was a flow of conversation between father and son that showed they liked each other but that was it, no special treatment for John. Mr Watson had been following John's blog and was eager to hear more about myself and work but Mrs Watson had requested that it not be discussed at the dinner table. After that point the food was quickly finished and Mrs Watson went to fetch a quilt and pillow as the extra room apparently had no bed as it was broken by John's sister before she had left. I didn't need to ask further questions.

"You sleep in your room, I'll sleep on the sofa." I said after John's parents had gone to bed for the night. As soon as I said it I remembered the box and how I had yet to hide it. Thankfully John's loyalty was predictable and much appreciated.

"No, no. You're the guest you sleep in my room." I made the effort to put on a melodramatic sigh before groaning a 'fiiiine' before turning around had walking towards the hallway. Then I stopped, turned around checking on him one more time today.

"Good night, John." I practically whispered, smiling. He smiled back a real genuine smile before replying, "Good night, Sherlock." Then I walked away.

 **Authors Note:**

 **Want me to continue? I'm planning on it becoming a Johnlock build with a bit of sexy times involved. Reviews make me smile and encourage me so no pressure but send me some.**

 **Tee.**


	2. Saturday

**Authors Note:**

 **I am so sorry for the delay. Annoyingly this chapter was basically finished a mere week after the first chapter had been published but I was distracted with education, work and social life to actually complete it. I will be quickly working on the next chapter as you readers deserved it asap. But anyway despite the delay, I hope you enjoy the next instalment.**

 **Tee.**

 **[] = mind palace**

 **Text = text**

Chapter 2:

Upon entering his room, I quickly opened the cupboard door and reached for the box. On the back of it, the words 'For the new baby' were written in a black marker as well as a small heart. The Watson's were clearly also looking forward to the arrival of John's child. They must have been devastated after hearing the news of her death but they don't seem to be grieving currently, then again if John has had enough time to move on then they definitely must have or else would still be grieving now if she meant to much to them. I heard the creak of the floor board before there was a knock at the door. I turned just in time to see Mrs Watson hesitantly peaking inside the room. She noticed the box and smiled sadly,

"I was so ready to be a grandmother." I nodded, unsure how to respond. I walked over to her, still holding the cardboard box, before handing it to her slowly. She took it with apprehensive, gentle hands [Like it's her grandchild.] and looked at the box for a few seconds then looked at me once more.

"I don't think John is ready to deal with this just yet. Would you be able to hide it somewhere?" **[Be polite.]** I heard John's voice say to me.

"Please?" She smiled fondly at me, sniffing and her eyes welling with tears as she nodded quickly and turned around. I thought she was going to leave the room but she stopped outside the door and croaked,

"I'm so glad John has you, Sherlock." And then she was gone. I shut the door and leant against it, breathing deeply. Glad John had me? Me? If anything I am the one fortunate to have John, because despite his grieving and that I was the one who caused him said grieving, John still took care of me. John still cooked food even when he didn't want to eat, made me sleep even when his nights only contained nightmares and most importantly worked with me on the cases when it only reminded him of death. John was loyal and for this I am entirely grateful to him. John has all of me no doubt about it but I'm sure his mother did not mean that, or did she? **[Look at the facts Sherlock.]** Mycroft said internally. Fine. I toed my shoes off and sat on the bed. John's bed. The bed was clearly newly made from the lack of dust and creases, there was also a scent of fabric detergent around. I looked down at the pillow and slowly, slowly... I am now laying on John's bed. I placed my hands in the familiar thinking position and closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing as the smoke of my mind cleared to reveal my mind palace. I needed to process.

 **[I found myself in the room from the previous case. The killer's mugshot stood proudly in the middle on the room with data about her to the right of the photo. 'The sister; how typical. Anyway that doesn't matter any more, close.' The door behind me opened and I left the room of the case John called My Sister Killer after some book he had read previously. The image of his eyes watering and him forcefully shutting the book flashed before me and I quickly brushed the image aside. 'I have already dealt with that.' I continued to walk, planning on leaving the Cases Corridor with doors lined with names and numbers. I stopped briefly at the Study in Pink case, shook my head and then continued towards the door at the end of the corridor. After exiting I turned towards the General Memories Corridor where I knew my most recent memories would be flying about, unsorted and annoying. There I found the following couple of days, including John receiving the phone call from his mother, demanding that he visits and planning the trip for the weekend. Watching the way John smiled brightly when I agreed to go on the trip with him. From here I began to analyse, deduce and process all the information I had received from John whether it be body language or simple words. The entire procedure took the entire night but afterwards I felt I had a final conclusion about John and his emotions.]**

The fog grew as I opened my eyes, the bright light of morning causing me to blink quickly and suddenly. Having slept the previous night I wasn't tired despite the lack of sleep, a brief look at the clock told me I had been analysing for 7 or so hours however the time was well spent for not I understood a little more about John Watson. I continued to lay there, hands by my side as I waited for either a knock at the door or a floorboard creaking or John's voice from downstairs perhaps. However instead the man himself sneaks into the room and places a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table by the bed, looking down at me and shaking his head in a fond manner.

"Sherlock, did you sleep at all last night?" He sat down at the end of the bed with his own cup of tea, his hip barely touching my thigh yet the touch was extremely obvious and distracting. He raised his eyebrow in mock annoyance, he was clearly in a good mood this morning.

"No. I didn't need any more sleep so I spent the night in my mind palace." I was tempted to add how comfy his old bed was but decided against it as it was a bit 'not good'. He smiled down at me, sipping his tea thoughtfully then looking around the room. I sat up, leaning against my arms and following his line of sight to the window where a past a couple of houses there was a large oak tree. John looked down into his tea, coughing awkwardly.

"So my dad is making the family a fry-up, his Saturday tradition, and afterwards I was thinking me and you could go have a walk down to the park I used to visit as a kid for, well, um, a walk I guess..." He ended awkwardly, eyes locked on his tea and a red tinge to his cheeks. Being eager to know more about young John I nodded quickly straight away before adding,

"I'd... I'd love to." I'm sure that's the correct response. Dull human interaction being important to John - otherwise I'd happily be the sociopath I believed myself to be. He seemed to relax from my response I observed as I reached for my own tea, finishing it in one drink, I was unaware how thirsty I was until the first sip. I placed the now empty mug back on the side table and John sighed in response, reaching across me to pick up the mug. This brought him alarmingly close to my face. At least... it was alarming for a few seconds before the shock wore off and John's eyes turned to me, he made no move to distance himself and seemed to be looking at all the details of my face then quickly focusing on my eyes. **[He searching for something. A sign of some sorts to tell him that I-]**

He looked away, standing up with a nod and the sneaking out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

I collapsed on the bed; the breath rushing from my lungs as I scrunched my eyes shut, hands covering my face. What the bloody hell was that?! Groaning as I sat up I looked at the door John had just left, double checking that he had indeed gone and wasn't watching me struggle with understanding what the hell just happened. I'm not so inept that I don't know that the sequence of events that just happened was not the norm for friends - even best friends. Nor am I unaware that since returning from the 'dead' our relationship has been interesting to say the least. Feelings are discussed more, brief touches have been added into our everyday life and now with Mary being gone, John is finally single. I groaned again, all conclusions that I had reached last night have just been proven false and now I'm back to square one. Dammit. Stretching as I stood, I made my way to the bathroom for what would hopefully be a hot shower.

* * *

The Watson's bathroom wasn't that different from the bathroom at Baker Street except the addition of a bath and a brighter colour scheme. Locking the door, I began to unbutton my shirt as I walked over to the shower. The shower was quick to turn on and I noted the citrus scented shower gel as well as the store branded shampoo and conditioner. I sighed, my hair's going to feel rough for the whole weekend. Anyway, I continued to remove my clothes only pausing to note the healing of my scars, the one from John's wife was going to be a permanent mark but it had completely healed now, no longer red or sore. Shaking my head I entered the boiling hot shower, the steam beginning to rise. I sighed blissfully, all my tense muscles relaxing and my thoughts slowing down if only slightly, drifting off in random direction - cases, chemistry, bees and John... John. John. John. Those eyes as they explored my face, searching in ways I could not search. The way he focused on my cheekbones, on my freckles, the creases by my mouth and my lips. The way he licked his lips in concentration as he stared deep into my eyes, the clip rolled in front of my eyes as I washed my hair, scrubbed my body. Oh. Oh. Oh. **[John.]** Admittedly I spent longer in the shower then was needed and I left the bathroom with a blush on my cheeks, very thankful that nobody interrupted me as I got ready for the day before descending the stairs to the smell of bacon.

* * *

I sat down at the table silently whilst John and his father spoke general small talk, John clutching a cup with some picture of a golden retriever on it. John barely gave me a nod before continuing the conversation with his father who begins to speak to me.

"Mornin' Sherlock. Fancy a fry-up?" He inquired, turning to me from the stove holding a spatula.

"Yes sir." I replied, aware that this was still John's father and whilst he seems more calm around his father, John is definitely not comfortable around the man and an argument or more awkwardness for the whole three days will be a form of torture for the both of us. However Mr Watson is currently chuckling at me so I believe I'm safe for now.

"Alrighty then. John! Pour the man some tea or something, we raised you better than that son." He ordered in a very similar tone John uses for his Captain Watson mode yet as far as I deduce, Mr Watson is not a military man. The said ex-army doctor stands from his chair and moves to the cupboard above a kettle to fetch a cup. The tea is poured and very quickly handed to me, confirming that John was feeling as tense about the moment and that it was a 'moment'. A few minutes later a plate with eggs, bacon, sausages, toast and beans is placed in front of me by John's father and the man left to 'fetch my wife' leaving John and I in the kitchen on our own.

The tap drips. The clock on the wall ticks loudly. My fork suddenly scraps noisily on the plate as I scope some beans. The reflection on the oven door shows that my doctor is looking down and not likely to look up or start a conversation. I cleared my throat in an attempt to gain his attention but his sausage was apparently more interesting than me at the moment, so I tried again.

"Are we still visiting the park today?" My voice sounded clearer than I was expecting but still sounded more vulnerable than I wanted. Finally he looked up at me, cautiously. He coughed awkwardly before speaking,

"Of course." He swallows, avoiding my eyes whilst he cuts some bacon. "Why, do you not want to now?" He bites his fork, briefly glances at my eyes before looking at the door as his parents descend the stairs. The conversation gets forgotten as the parents tuck in to their breakfast and converse about boring and dull subjects like the weather and sport. John contributes now and then but mostly remains as silent as I then excusing himself to get ready for the day. Once he's gone and out of ear shot, Mrs Watson places her hand upon mine then lowering her voice as she says,

"The box is hidden, he won't find it." She smiles softly and Mr Watson raises his eyebrows then seems to clock on and nods slowly as he continues to eat his breakfast, seeming deep in thought. It seems he hasn't finished grieving either. I smiled back at her and finished my tea before excusing myself as well, eager to get away from the social interaction, as I left I heard Mr Watson's comment,

"I like him, he gets our John." I turned the corner to the stairs, aiming to hide in the room, when I saw John with damp hair at the top of the stairs in just a robe. He smiled at me, a genuine smile.

"Hey Sherlock, can you ask my dad to bang on the boiler? Hot water isn't working. After I shower, we'll go for that walk." He was trying too hard to be normal and it was bizarre to hear him like this. I nodded and returned to the kitchen,

"Mr Watson, John has asked me to ask you to bang on the boiler." Mr Watson, in response, burst into laughter, then got up and opened a cupboard before bashing it with his fist. The boiler groaned in protest before chugging into life. John shouted a thank you from the stairs and I walked out of the kitchen whilst Mr Watson continued to laugh loudly. I ascended the stairs, returning to John's old room and just sitting on the bed as I waited for John. Not ten minutes later, the blogger knocked on the door with now dry hair and his oatmeal jumper that I was rather fond of but at the same time hated. He smiled at me, not as forced this time but not genuine.

"Shall we?" He said, opening the door fully and leaning against the door frame casually. I stood up and joined him by the door before we both walked to the front door.

John said a brief goodbye to his parents and then we began the walk to the near-by park. The air was cold, causing condensation from our breath as we walked in silence, side by side. The walk to the park was short yet there was a certain relief when we reached the park which had dog walkers and mothers with prams. John, to his part, did not seem phased by the prams and instead focused on pointing out locations and the stories behind them. We approached a large oak tree with a park bench underneath it which we agreed to sit down on, the doctor looked up at the oak and smiled fondly.

"This is where I spent most of my childhood. This tree in particular, broke my arm falling off it when I first tried to climb it but that didn't stop me from trying again. I'd just made some of my first friends at secondary school and we rushed to the park to play, so of course I show them the massive tree and I'm trying to impress them because they were the cool kids at the school so I climbed the tree not watching what I was doing and snap. Branch brakes and I go falling down and land awkwardly on my arm. It could have been worse, I almost hit this bench and that would have caused some head issues. But as soon as the cast was off I tried again and finally, I reached the top. The view is incredible up there, mate. But the sense of accomplishment and pride was..." He stopped and closed his eyes, with a small smile on his face. I want to touch him. I never want to touch people but I wanted John to know I cared and felt the a hand on his shoulder or something would show this, but before I could do so John had opened his now damper eyes. He sighed, looking deep into my eyes.

"I think love is like that, you get hurt by it but you keep trying and when you finally reach the top, the view is incredible and suddenly you know that the hurt is worth it." He smiled at me, a sad smile but a smile none the less and I returned the gestured, squeezing his hand that I had apparently grabbed sometime in his explanation. We stayed like that for a few minutes before John showed me the rest of the park, including where his first kiss was and then we returned to the house, the silence no longer awkward and the air seemed not as cold.

* * *

Back at the house, a note was pinned to the fridge from his parents explaining how it was a friend's birthday and they had gone for a meal. John sighed and reached for the phone, bragging about his favourite Chinese takeaway and after being pointed to the video cabinet, I was told to pick a movie for us to watch. There was all the bond movies, some cheesy titled movies before a came across the movie 'Dracula'. Admittedly I had read the book as a child, Mycroft had tried to scare me with it, with annoyingly had worked for some time. However the movie, I had never seen.

Food was much better than the local Chinese near Baker Street and the restaurant knowing the Watson's meant we got more than usual and quicker service. In the middle of the movie and after the food had been finished, John turned his head a looked at me with a look I just couldn't place. The same look his mother gives him but more fonder with more strength even. I kept my eyes locked to the screen as I pretended to be interested in the fake blood dripping from Dracula's mouth. I hoped he couldn't hear my heart beat, it was beating annoyingly loud as if I was high. What is this?!

Sometime after the movie had finished, John's parents walked in more tipsy than when they had left. John managed to get them into bed whilst I prepped the sofa for bed. John smiled brightly when he saw what I'd done and I couldn't help but return the smile,

"I'll sleep here tonight, you get the bed. No arguments." His smile was wiped off his face and was replaced with a scowl but it was friendly showing that he wouldn't be putting up much of an argument.

"Sherlock..." He shook his head and then started to walk over. Closer and closer. He looked down, breathed in deeply before looking deep into my eyes.

"No arguments." I tried again, much quieter and softer than I intended it to be. He smiled softly, a sharp breath coming from his nose.

"Okay, good night." I'm certain that there was a brief look at my lips, but the lighting was poor and perhaps I'm tired but before I could react to it, John had turned out of the room. I collapsed onto the sofa, groaned into the pillow and slowly drifted into dull, dark sleep.


End file.
